The Great Broom Closet Incident
by Squashes
Summary: Lily Evans tries to avoid two objects at all costs: humiliation and James Potter. Unfortunately, the two seem to go hand in hand. Especially now that she's stuck in a broom closet with him...
1. Once Upon a Nun

I know that I'm supposed to be updating Evans' Naughty Book (and I swear, I'm only a few days away from it!), but this story was calling to me to be finished. It was originally going to be a one-shot, but in the end, it was nearly twenty pages, so I made it into a tri-chaptered story. That's right. It's all completed. I guess how fast I update just depends on how hearty a reply I get…

.o&o.

My life seems to be one immense humiliation right after another. Take my birth, example. Sure, I was a newborn infant and can't remember it, but that's no reason why I can't be properly mortified.

According to my parents (who just love to tell the story at cocktail parties and rummy games), I wasn't due for another two weeks. They had decided to have one last hurrah before certain hell arrived. Well, I apparently didn't like being compared to Beelzebub's child, and so I made my presence known in the form of a large puddle between my mother's legs as she and my father slow danced in the elegant dining room of the famous Richt Mark.

Minutes later, I was struggling to emerge into this cruel world in the kitchen of one of the most chic restaurants in London. I stopped visiting there after my tenth birthday when the chef lovingly told me of how he cut my umbilical cord with barely sanitized kitchen shears.

And that's how I was born, blushing to the roots of my red hair. I suppose it is Fate's cruel decision that I should suffer so, from birth to death, but that doesn't mean I'm going to take it lying down. No, after every major degradation, I devise yet another plan in the futile attempt to rid me of my curse.

That's why I have decided to become a nun.

I know, I was shocked, too. A nun, you exclaim. But you're not even Catholic!

Ah, but you see, I answer brightly, I have red hair, and in Ireland, where roughly ninety-two percent of the Republic's populace is Roman Catholic, I am certain that the convents will welcome me with open arms.

No need to bother on the whole religion situation; I'm sure I can handle a few prayer beads and hymnal books. My primary school music teacher once complimented me on my strong vocal cords, so that practically settles it. Oh, and the fact that I'll have to be celibate.

Not, of course, that I wasn't already abstaining from sexual intercourse. I pride myself in my lifetime of abstinence, so much so that I cannot seem to mar my perfect record. So when Potter (oh, you knew it would come back to him! It always does) asks me to go out with him, I'll have to say no because there's no point in starting a relationship when I'm just going to be shipped off to an abbey anyway, my virgin solitude my only companion.

Now. I am sure you are quite curious about how exactly my celibacy cures my terrible affliction. Let me explain: since coming to Hogwarts, the principle embarrassments almost always occur when the odious Potter is around.

The way I see it, if I become a nun (which promises no sexual gratification whatsoever), Potter will have to stop asking me out in public, humiliating manners, which means Potter will stop coming around, which pretty much ends the Let's-All-Go-And-Watch-Lily-Evans-Die-of-Embarrassment-Again era. It all works out for the best.

The Catholic Church gets me, Potter doesn't, and the world is a better place. Maybe if we all became nuns, the international problem of hunger and poverty would be solved! Forever!

But then…unless babies began to grow on broccoli bushes, the human race would slowly die out, effectively eliminating the poverty, starvation, and life issue all together…

So maybe that's not such a great idea after all.

In any case, my personal oath to join the ranks of the holy sisters will be announced publicly the next time Potter yells out his eternal love (more like damnation) for me. Unbeknownst to him, his humiliating behavior will actually benefit me for once.

I will remain calm and collected as the crowd waits in suspense for my usual burst of bright fury at his stupidity. Instead of an angry retort, I will calmly inform Hogwarts of my decision. For days, the school will be positively buzzing with the astonishing news, and I shall rise triumphant over Potter.

He cannot possibly torment a nun-to-be in good conscience (even though it is so obvious to me that he does not have a conscience to be good about, surely the pompous peacock will not bother me because of immense peer disquiet), so I will finally be set free of my curse. I could feel the excitement that the execution of a fool-proof plan gives you bubbling up inside of me. I had to wait for the perfect moment to reveal my new-found calling. The more public, the better; it will indeed be a fitting end to all my shame.

Two days after the nun epiphany, Potter (who I watching eagerly out of the corner of my eye) looked over at me during supper. He opened his mouth, frowned and paused, and then readied himself again. I nearly burst with the anticipation. He was going to ask, he was to ask, he was--

"Oy, Evans! Will you--"

Yes! Yes, yes, yes! He asked! I quickly leaped up and, before announcing my future, wisely reminded myself to project my voice so that the maximum amount of my fellow students would hear me.

"I'm sorry, Potter," I shouted, the words tumbling out of their own accord, "but I must refuse the offer of your hand, as I am abstaining from sexual intercourse."

Oh, dear. That's not what I planned to say.

"…pass the juice?" Potter finished lamely (a little late, I must say), his eyebrows nearly past his unruly hairline.

A silence so thick and so heavy blanketed itself over the Great Hall that I could barely breathe. Or it could be the fact that every pair of eyes on every head in every House was staring at my now frozen figure.

"I--uh…that's not what I meant to-- not that I have been sexually active, because I have _not_. I--umm…" I could not force any words past the cotton balls that seemed to be inconveniently stuck in my throat. My tongue was clumsy and would not properly form the sounds and noises I needed to make to stop this oncoming humiliation. I coughed and tried again.

"I am going to become a mum!" I stopped and covered my mouth in horror. What had I done?! As one, the entire body of students erupted in laughter, successfully drowning out my frantic corrections. "No! I meant a nun! Not a mum! I haven't even indulged in sexual intercourse yet! But it's not as if I am Virgin Mary II either! I mean, I have had experience…but not that sort! I--I am _not_ going to be a mum!"

From my vantage point, I swear I saw Peter Pettigrew wet himself, which did nothing to cheer me. A red stain so hot I could have popped popcorn on it sizzled across my cheeks; I felt dizzy and disoriented. I clumsily climbed over the bench that held me prisoner. I was almost out, almost ready to run to safe solitude, when my foot got caught on the edge of the bench. I fell. My knee hit the hard floor and my hands slid across the rough stone, a burning sensation spreading across my palms. The roars of laughter only increased.

I felt tears threatening to burst out, but I stubbornly held them back. That was a step too far in my long road of humiliations, and I was not going to let myself cry in front of these laughing mockers. I pushed myself up from the ground and, trying and failing to ignore the sharp pain in my knee, I limped as fast I could out of the Hell...I mean, Hall.

Once outside the large, wooden doors, I crumpled against the stone wall. I should have learned by now! Why did I even let myself think I could actually make things better when they always ended like this? Hot tears of mortification spilt down my face as I listened, even through the thick walls of Hogwarts, to my laughing classmates.

I pushed myself from the wall as I angrily wiped the tears from my still-red cheeks. There would be no pity party for me, not here and now. Perhaps when I was securely cocooned in the dark warmth of my bed sheets, but I would not embarrass myself further by having an emotional breakdown here.

The great wooden door slid open beside me and a warm streak of light spilling onto the hard, gray stone. I made a mad dash for the stairs, still wanting to make good on the whole will-not-be-shamed-any-further vow before all my dignity was stripped from me.

As it went, people don't seem to fit into that equation.

"Hey, Evans! Wait!"

At the sound of that all-too-familiar voice, I began hobbling even faster. Two more stairs to go, one more stair to go…I made it past the stairs, which always seem to present a great humiliating scene. Just one long hallway and six flights of stairs more…

I heard Potter's quick footsteps as he jogged up the stairs behind me. I increased my pace. If there was anything to learn from what juts happened it was this: never try to avoid the curse by making silly plans and never, ever touch/talk/look at Potter (and not just because he's ugly). It seems that whenever I ignore these newly-adopted rules, something even more terrible than what I was trying to avoid occurs.

Unfortunately, I could only limp so fast with what I suspected was something akin to a busted kneecap, and the insufferably long-legged, uninjured Potter caught up with me. He slowed to a walk, matching me stride by stride. Well, it was more like matching my frantic hobble with his leisure walk.

I loathe tall people.

"Evans, are you alright?"

He looked down at me (from his vantage spot, I'm sure he was a crow's view of Hogwarts) as he strolled and I limped, but I ignored him.

"Come on, Evans…"

Must…follow…rules…

All I had to do was make it to the Gryffindor girl's dorm and I was safe. If Potter kept his troublesome self out of my business, I might make it without incident. Unfortunately, that was as likely as me becoming a Roman Catholic nun.

Which, by the way, isn't.

"Evans."

Now he was standing in front of me.

"Curse you, Potter! Move!" I growled angrily at him. I didn't have much time before the thin shell holding in the torrent of emotions cracked…

Of course, I wasn't the least bit surprised when I tripped over his untied shoelace (honestly! Is a shoelace even substantial enough to trip over!) in my efforts to shuffle around him. And of course, I was even less surprised when I fell on the very same knee that I had already bruised in my last escapade. The unwanted trip down Memory Lane didn't help either…that bloody prickle in my eyes was starting again.

"Evans!"

What was wrong with this boy! Could he not say anything else? Even as I silently raged at this moron for chasing around a cripple who wanted nothing to do with him, I felt his large hands pulling me up like one does with a small child to set me on my feet.

Not really trusting myself to speak, I just nodded my thanks and set off again. If you wanted to be technical, I had already broken my triangle of safety rules. Even if it was Potter who touched me, Lady Chaos didn't usually care, which typically didn't bode well for me.

As I suspected, the consequence for breaking my rules came swiftly. One moment I was limping away from Potter, the next I was falling towards the floor. Burdened under the heavy emotional and physical stress, my knees had finally given out. Sighing wearily as I drew closer to that ever-present stone floor, I had to wonder how many times I was going to be punished for trying to escape the Curse.

But then…I stopped. Either that, or the ground stopped coming closer…I blinked, suddenly realizing that those warm hands that had pulled me up earlier were now holding me close to something else warm…something warm like a chest…

As soon as it registered that James Potter was practically hugging me, I squeezed my eyes shut. _This was not happening, this was not happening_…I felt my stiff body being gently straightened to a standing position. _This was not happening_…

"Evans?" His soft voice was filled with concern, but I refused to open my eyes. This was just too rich; I couldn't stand it. Why Potter? Why did Potter have to be so caring? So helpful? So…unPotter-like? His breath tickled my ear as he sighed and (hesitantly, it seemed) let go of me. Even as I felt the loss of his comforting warmth (which I refused to be believe affected me), I kept my eyes firmly shut.

Just…breathe, I whispered to myself. Breathe. Maybe this is just the trick of an overwrought mind. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

A discreet cough interrupted my silent chant. I ignored it.

_If you can't see him, he's not there. If he's not there, he can't see you_.

Another cough, this one not so subtle.

"Uh, Evans? You…all right?" At Potter's surprisingly gentle tone, I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter. He was talking to me like I was some frightened animal that needed to be coaxed out of a paralyzed state! I was Lily Evans, dutifully pretending that nothing was wrong with having a complete physical shutdown after tripping over your nemesis' shoelace.

…

Right. So maybe I was being a bit loony, but that didn't give Potter the right to talk in that maddeningly soft voice! It was so gentle and apprehensive…nothing was making sense. Even Potter was being different! For his benefit (I wasn't about to admit that I was actually becoming completely unhinged), I increased the volume of my ever-changing mantra.

"I can't see him, he is not there. He is not there, I am not embarrassed. I am not embarrassed. I am NOT embarrassed." My voice raised a frightening octave, despite my attempts to stop it. "I am not embarrassed. I am not embarrassed. I am not--"

"Evans!" Now he was touching me, his strong hand grasping my stiff arm. "Stop it! This isn't…you! Please, just open your eyes and it'll be okay." When I made no response, his grip on my arm became painfully tight. "Lily! There's no need to be embarrassed. Everyone trips…"

I started at the sound of my first name, but I didn't open my peepers.

"I am not embarrassed -I-didn't-just-trip-I-called-myself-your-preganant-whore-in-front-of-the-entire-staff-of-Hogwarts- I am not embarrassed." I spoke in a rush, blushing anew at the thought of Professor Dumbledore's shocked features. I took a shaky breath, trying to sort out the buzzing thoughts zooming about. What was wrong with me? I had never, ever been like this before. But at the same time, I couldn't stop. It was as if the reasonable Lily had been booted out from my system, leaving a deranged maniac in place of her.

Apparently Potter was thinking along the same lines; he let out a groan of frustration. Just then, the loud clatter of satisfied students emerging from the Great Hall reached our ears. My chant froze on my lips as the full potential of the situation hit me. If I was seen like this, I was certainly doomed. My future career would be tainted by this; fellow classmates would always remember me as that one crazy girl who lied about being pregnant in front of all the school.

It seemed as if Potter had reached the same conclusion. "Evans, there are people coming this way. If you don't want to be seen like this, I propose that you open your eyes and walk with me. Now."

His words of reason seemed to reach into Crazy-Lily's disorganized mind and pull out the side of me that had been trying desperately to retrieve dominance. I stopped my ridiculous chanting and tried to try to pry my eyes open.

"I can't."

"Come _on_, Evans! You just open--"

"No, I really can't!"

And I couldn't. I had been desperately attempting since the clamorous noise of the students had reached my burning ears. My eyes were just not obeying. The buzzing in my head was gone and I once again was fully in charge of my mind, but I couldn't open my eyes. I suppose that my little orbs had quite taken to the deep instinct that had previously flooded my senses: freeze and it'll go away. I endeavored to fight it, but I suppose I was more stubborn than I had previously suspected.

"Potter, I can't open my eyes. I really can't. I've tried to, but they just won't…" My voice rose frantically and I took deep breaths.

"Are you-- ok, right. Well. I really don't-- I'm going to have to…" Maybe he should try this great phenomenon called talking. I heard it was all the rage in Paris. "Don't hate me," he ended lamely. And then he scooped me up in his arms, screwed eyeballs and all.

I was so astonished I just gaped blindly at him. His arms were infuriatingly strong and his grip was firm; any other man in any other circumstance, and I would have been deliriously happy. If it wasn't Potter, I think I might have been comfortable. But it _was_ Potter…

I heard a door shut behind us, and my eyes shot open. I suppose that they finally got the message that my brain had been trying to send for the last ten minutes…or maybe that the surprise of being carried though a doorway like a bride over a threshold forced my mind to…no, wait. No. The words 'bride' and 'Potter' should never be written, spoken, or translated in the same sentence. Ever.

In any case, my eyes were open, a reason to celebrate. But in the end, it didn't really matter, as it was completely dark. I couldn't see anything, not even my hand frantically waving in front of my freed eyes. And I could smell the distinct scent of broom wax.

Hmm…dark, broom-scented….

"What-- are we in a broom closet? After screaming out my sexual fantasies about having your children, you brought me to a broom closet? A broom closet! Oh, Merlin…"

.o&o.

While I make inane noises, you review. Ready? Go! Ho-hum. Diddly-doo. Lalalabun. Coodly-coodly-doo. Tree.


	2. Wandless Whales Tend To Wail

A special thanks to:

**Fire Mage 14**

**The Allknowing Tonks**

**Kako **

**Ichan**

**futureauthor15**

**radio wires**

**pavement-moves-so-quickly**

**october tuscany**

**Queenofrootloops**

**scowlingpixie**

**moonlitxmemories**

**Kitkat**

**EastCoastHPgrl**

**good little grunge girl**

**UnangelicHalo**

**Sarah12345**

**Anymous**- I really hope that my work didn't get you cornered in a dark corner of the bus; angry people don't like laughter very much…

**Mila**- you really don't know how wonderful it is to hear that I am actually doing something right. Well, maybe you do, but in any case, thank you. Your words are immensely appreciated.

The Humiliating Failure That is Lily Evans Reminiscences:

"_What-- are we in a broom closet? After screaming out my sexual fantasies about having your children, you brought me to a broom closet? A broom closet?! Oh, Merlin…"_

.o&o.

I pushed against Potter's chest and strived to ignore how muscled it felt beneath my hands while I struggled to get out of his arms.

"Ow. Ow! Are your eyes open?"

"Not that it matters now, but yes! They finally opened."

"What was wrong with them?" he asked innocently, and I cursed him for sounding so concerned.

"I have no idea. My eyes just appreciate the break from looking at you, I guess," I snapped.

"Oh."

No witty comeback, no harsh critique of my own appearance…what was wrong with him? And why did that little quiet 'oh' make my heart twist in guilt? In an attempt to shake these disturbing thoughts out of my head, I stumbled toward where I thought the door was. This situation was reaching its critical potential for humiliation, I knew. I had that strange tingling behind my ears…Now was the time to escape.

"Ouch. Ah, stupid broomy-stick thing! Oh, owwww! What-- I hate buckets! Ugh, it has some kind of slimy liquid in it. I'll just get it off, then…" Grunt. "Hey, it's stuck! Bloody bucket, sticking to my bloody foot..." Another grunt. "Get…off…of…me!"

Needless to say, my trip to the door was unsuccessful. I managed to hit my shin on a thick bundle of hard broomsticks just waiting for me to run into them and then stepped into a bucket filled with something that was, judging from the rank smell, probably green and swarming with deadly bacteria. But don't ask me what color it was…_I _couldn't see anything.

Just as I was kicking my leg about in a lame effort to get the repulsive pail off my foot, I heard James groan in exasperation. A bubble of anger swelled in my chest. What was his problem? He wasn't the one who had just called herself a tart in front of all her peers, only to be found in a broom closet with her supposed enemy and her foot stuck in a bucket! On top of that, she still had-

"_Lumos_!"

And let there be light.

Any irritation at James disappeared and was quickly replaced by shame. I was one of Hogwarts' top witches, and I couldn't think if a simple light spell to brighten the atmosphere?

Something was very, very wrong with me.

In a sudden spirit of determination, I suddenly decided that the rather tragic experience I had just undergone was to blame for all past behavior. I was a new woman. I would not give myself over to emotional breakdowns, mad actions, or any other disturbing attributes that I seemed to be sporting. This was it; they were gone. I mentally flushed them down the imaginary toilet of forgetfulness.

Meanwhile, I still struggled with that annoying bucket that wouldn't let go of my leg. I suppose it liked it; I don't blame the little bucket. I've always been told that I have exquisite ankles.

"Uh, Evans? Are you in need of assistance?" James gracefully stepped over the pile of brooms that had such a vendetta against me (strange, they had felt so much bigger when I had run into them) and easily avoided the other bucket very similar to the one stuck on my foot. I wanted to be angry at him for being so agile, but I couldn't, not when he was bending over my captured limb and rescuing it from the imprisoning container.

"Uh…yes…I suppose…stupid bucket is stuck on my newest pair of shoes…" This new side of James was very disconcerting-- wait. Wait. What did I just call him? Now we're on first-name basis? What was this?! Why was I suddenly calling him James? It wasn't as if ten minutes of kindness could erase six years of pain…Godric's beard! Could I be softening towards…?

A yank and a disgusting splulch! later, my foot was free. Let the bells chime out in joy! I was free! I was tempted to do a little jig, but it was too risky. The buckets were still out there, waiting…

James…no, Potter…stood up, and grimaced as he looked down into the offending object he held. "That's absolutely disgusting, Evans; you might want to go into quarantine or something."

He grinned down at me, and I suddenly realized how close we were. The light from Potter's wand cast a faint glow about his face that made him eerily attractive. I finally noticed how he had filled out his shirt over summer break, and his hair wasn't quite so…windswept. Still horribly messy, but the usual carefully ruffled look was gone.

Just like my common sense. I mean, Potter… (oh, all right!) James couldn't have possibly have…grown up? But the facts were there. He was Head Boy, he no longer ran rampant with his wand, and well…to be completely truthful, he hadn't asked me out in quite some time.

Something was very, very wrong with him.

"So…should I or are you going to?"

I shook off my thoughts. "What's that?"

James motioned to my jellified foot, which I could know see was covered in globs of purple masses that slowly oozed towards the floor.

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'll get it." I managed to say as I pulled out my wand. Or, tried to, at least. On my third attempt, I came to the horrifying conclusion that maybe I didn't have it. Maybe I had misplaced it…you know, wands are so easy to lose these days…

"Oh, stars! I can't find it! It's missing! Gods, my wand is gone! What am I going to do?!" I could feel the all too-familiar rise of panic well within me, and I tried to quell it. I wasn't so successful. "How--how could I have lost my wand? I'm a witch! I'm Head Girl! I'm...I'm Lily Evans! Where could I have--when…It's--it's…"

My well-formulated plan to become a new woman, free from histrionics and emotions, quickly ended. To my mortification, I felt moisture spring out of my well-hydrated tear ducts. It was the last straw that broke the camel's back, as my mother would say. But, if I was a camel, I probably wouldn't be wasting precious moisture on stupid tears anyway, and I also wouldn't be in this horrible situation trapped in an insidious broom closet with my moronic nemesis…

"Are--are you crying?" James' voice broke through my self-destructive thoughts, uncertain and completely lacking his usual confidence. His soft voice did nothing to improve the situation.

"NO! No, I am not--not…" As if to further my already demeaning circumstances, I began hiccupping between words. "I am n-not crying! I d-don't ever cry! And w-why are you b-being so nice?!" I blubbered heatedly. I did that, when I cried. I got angry at myself for being so ridiculously emotional and dramatic, and then at anyone else who dared to comfort me. Which was not what James was doing.

"It'll be okay. You'll be all right." I felt James' warm hand awkwardly pat me on the back. Remembering what Witch Weekly (not that I read such ludicrous material) had said about men and tears, I let out a shaky giggle. How horrible it must be for James, to be stuck in a cramped room with a foul-smelling, hysterically weeping girl.

"I-I'm so sorry, James! I-I guess I've b-been worse than…than, well, I d-don't know! But…oh, Merlin, I-I'm such a blubbering wha-ale!" Fresh tears streamed down my face as the situation hit me once again. I was a mad, pregnant, wandless witch! This was an all-time low for Lily Evans, the pits of the cherries of life…

"What did you say?" I looked up at James, his astonished face shadowed in the dim light of his wand.

Still sobbing, I rubbed my nose. "That I'm a blubberin-ing whale?"

"No, you said…you said my name. My first name."

I stared up at his infuriatingly good-looking face and burst into another set of sobs. I had! I did! I was saying his name! Either someone had it out for me, or something was terribly wrong with me. Why was I being so…so different?

"No! Lily, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean-- don't cry! I'm sorry!" His distress at my absurd weeping only made me cry harder. Why? How in the Crypt Keeper should I know? I was a hysterical girl. Common sense just doesn't fit into the equation right at this particular moment.

Especially now that I had buried my head into his chest. Yes, that's right. I was crying like someone had just bumped off my mum into the hard, muscled chest of my greatest enemy in Hogwarts. Common sense? Please. That's so overrated. I felt his arms wrap themselves around my shaking body, and most unrealistically, this made me cry even harder. Yes, that's me, the wailing witch of Hogwarts.

"Um…Lily…it's okay, it'll be all right…things'll get better." His hands slowly rubbed my back, not in the I'm-just-doing-this-to-warm-you-up sense, but more like my mother would do after Petunia had ruined yet another one of my birthday parties. Despite his continually repetitive terms of 'all right' and 'okay', it was strangely comforting. "I mean, we're just hiding out in a broom closet after you proclaimed your due date to the school, minutes away from certain discovery--" Another fresh round of tears. "No! I'm sorry; I was just trying to be funny. It was stupid of me…trying to be funny…"

I snorted into his chest, no doubt leaving a snot stain. My hysterics slowed as I took deep breaths to calm myself. When there were only a few hiccups and trickling tears left, I somewhat reluctantly (can't a girl get a few minutes of cuddling? I'm just desperate, that's all.) pushed myself out of his arms.

"Thanks, Potter." I sniffed, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "For everything, I mean. But-- but I probably should go and look for my missing wand. It's never a good thing when a witch loses her wand…" I released a sickeningly fake laugh, one that made even me cringe.

His face fell as he nodded, and I realized that I had gone back to calling him 'Potter'. Merlin, I was so stupid! He had just helped me avoid what could have been the most horrible experience of my life, and I was back to pretending we were enemies. _Callous, cruel Lily, _I berated myself. _Bad Lily. Now apologize._

I opened my mouth, but stopped. What was I going to say, sorry for calling you by your surname? No, I would just have to leave it at that. There was nothing I could do.

"Goodbye." I hesitated, and then, "Potter." _Stupid, cowardly Lily! Afraid of giving him a chance?_

"See you, Evans," he said stiffly.

My heart twisting in guilt, I reached for the doorknob and pulled. And pulled. And then pulled harder.

"Wha-- why do you hate me so?!" I cried to the heavens. "Why?"

I slumped against the thick wooden door. Fabulous. Now I was trapped in the very same awkward situation that I myself had created by putting formalities between Potter --James, James, James!-- and I. Because I just had to out my foot in my mouth, we were back to square one. And this time, we actually were stuck in a broom closet.

.o&o.

Imagine that I had a paintball gun. Imagine you were ten yards from me. Imagine that I said that if you didn't review, you'd resemble a rainbow-colored bruise. Imagine you reviewed.


	3. Charades Are the Pits

Here it is, the final installment. I am so thankful for all you very, very, very patient readers. I am quite surprised that I wasn't threatened with the guillotine…

As always, please let me know if there's a sentence that just doesn't sound quite right, or there's a minor (or major) grammatical error. I really do want to know.

My undying gratitude to:

**ride-on-Bon**

**UnangelicHalo**

**A Vermilion Memory**

**Escape-from-Reality**

**The Allknowing Tonks**

**chihuahuaauthor99**

**Swishy Willow Wand**

**sarcastic 'n' silly**

**shorya**

**scowlingpixie**

**moonlitxmemories**

**BlackPearl2846**

**october Tuscany**

**spencer4ever**

**EnglishGrlVerity**

**XxMidnightWolfxX**

**EastCoastHPgrl**

**moony07**

**the-hoop-earings**

**MOONA**

_Remember, Remember, the Fifth of November...Or the Seventh…_

_I slumped against the thick wooden door. Fabulous. Now I was trapped in the very same awkward situation that I myself had created by putting formalities between Potter --James, James, James -- and I. Because I just had to out my foot in my mouth, we were back to square one. And this time, we actually were stuck in a broom closet._

.o&o.

"Right," I wearily began. I was always the one to break those uncomfortable silences. Let's ignore the fact that I had been the one who created it. "Why don't you try a simple unlocking charm on it? See if that works."

James nodded and strode (more like shuffled; there wasn't much space to accommodate someone as gallingly tall as James) towards the locked nuisance.

"_Alohamora_!"

I yanked at the door as hard as I could. It didn't budge. The frustration of it all chafed me like wet underwear.

"Well, of course. Of course I would be locked in a small, nasty closet without my wand. It just wouldn't make sense otherwise. In fact, I'd be surprised," I spit out in anger. Despite my best attempts, I was starting to resemble a sprinkler.

"Maybe if I try a disarming charm, then…" Pot-- James' voice was low, as if he was talking to himself.

_Heh…the great Potter talks to himself…just like me…_

"Why are you talking to yourself?" I asked suddenly, and then covered my mouth in dismay. Ah! I did it again! I was behaving like a first year! But even then I hadn't spoken without consideration.

"I'm not." His voice was sharp as he glanced over at me. I wanted to apologize, but that stubborn thing called pride wouldn't allow me to…

_Of course you're not. And even if you were, it's okay. I do it all the time. My sister Petunia often asked my mum if she had dropped me on my head when I was a babe._

"Well, maybe if you actually paid attention in class, we would be able to use one of the many useful charms. But no, the great James Potter doesn't listen to the amateur teachers; he doesn't need to!" I ground out scathingly. I stuffed my fist in my mouth before any other poisonous words could be formed by my uncontrollable tongue.

"Okay. Do you want to use your wand to get out of here, or should I continue? I'm sorry that I can't be perfect, Evans, but at least I'm trying!"

_I know you're trying! I'll just sit here, all quiet like until you figure it out._

"Look, Potter. Your whining isn't going to get us anywhere, so you might as well just shut up!"

AH! Oh, stars, I was going insane! I couldn't stop saying those horrible words! I didn't mean them! I didn't want them! The words filled my mouth like thick custard; my tongue was drowning in the unwelcome flavor of its acidic flavor.

James slowly turned from the door to face me. I'd never really noticed how tall --and intimidating-- he was…his eyes seemed to shoot off sparks as he spoke.

"Evans. I can understand hysterical women, but you! You've gone above and beyond! First you interrupt my dinner by refusing my offer (of what? Passing the pumpkin juice?), then you announce to the entire school that you carry my child! After that, you go mental on me and can't seem to open your eyes, and when I save you from certain doom, you scream at me!" He unconsciously stepped closer to my grimacing figure. The heat of his anger was like an uncomfortably warm fire that I couldn't scoot away from. There wasn't any room.

"_Then_ you decide to compete with the Moaning Myrtle in a sob fest. And now, after I comforted you and probably could've taken advantage of you…now you're insulting me like _I'm_ the one that has the problem. Well, Miss Lily Evans," --he spat out my name like it was burning his tongue-- "here's some news for you. _You_ are the problem here. Not the door, not your eyes, not me. You. So unless you are going to magically transform into the Lily I thought I liked, you can just shut the hell up."

His chest was heaving as if he had just run a marathon, but it was me that was in pain. Mentally, physically, emotionally…it all seemed the same now. I just knew that it hurt, what he said. Not because I didn't deserve it (because I did…well, at least my very naughty mouth did), but because I realized that I liked him. I genuinely liked him. He was an attractive young man who could open doors for ladies and still joke with the best of them. It was like turning your back on a pot of water that wouldn't boil, and then BAM!...

I suppose he had grown up without my notice, and now that I had noticed, it was too late. My newfound appreciation for his existence wouldn't be welcome now. I suppose now that he hated me, I'd be just like him…pining after someone who despised their very soul. But why wouldn't he? I was being perfectly awful to him after he helped me so much.

In the end, I couldn't stand his intense stare as he waited for my response. I had to say something.

_I'm sorry. I keep trying to say something completely different, but…and now you hate me! Don't hate me! I'm such an idiot…_

"Well, I hope that gives you motivation to get us out here then."

I almost started weeping again, then and there. I saw his face harden before he moved back to his position at the door. I waited until he had completed another unsuccessful attempt before trying again.

_I'm sorry._

"I'd never apologize for anything I've said, because there isn't reason to."

A sad sigh escaped James, and I silently cursed my parents. They just had to have me in that cursed restaurant... "You don't have to try to start an argument with me now, Evans. You're right, I'm wrong…I'm broken, okay? You don't have to try anymore. You've won. I won't ever talk, speak, touch, or even look at you again."

_NO!_

"At last, a reprieve from your tawdry attempts at romance…thank you, Potter."

He didn't respond as he flicked his wand at the door again. It didn't open.

I sank to the ground in mild horror. I wasn't ever going to hear from him again…never get a chance to stifle a giggle at one of his undeniably hilarious jokes…never be able to admit to him that I enjoyed being with him…could one day even care for him…

It was funny, really. Now that I absolutely ruined any chance of ever coming into contact with him again, I was actually beginning to like him. His heroic display when I was weeping wasn't a sign of a weak man, to be sure…everything he had done was sweet and kind, and everything I wanted in a man…boy…whatever…

I forced my mind from that all-together depressing issue. Maybe if I ignored it, it would go away…

I fell into my safety net and switched to the gears of Logical Lily. Back to my mystifying issue I went. This entire think-something-say-something-completely-different was a bit strange, even for me. It couldn't possibly be me just putting my foot in my mouth. I was a pro when it came to escaping uncomfortable situations after an awkward statement filled the air, like a heavy perfume that wouldn't desist.

This…now this was quite a bit more complex. I couldn't run away from it, and I couldn't put a plug in it. Everything I thought to say came out twisted and skewed. It seemed that my mouth had begun its very own propaganda campaign.

I'm not one to make predictions, but that never bodes well for anyone.

I mentally replayed all the horrifying events that had occurred in the last three hours of my dismal life. I fast forwarded through the Great Hall scene; I wasn't ready to face that again. The fall, the psycho eyes, the other fall…and then the broom closet. I frowned. Nothing. There was nothing to pin this bit of outrageous behavior on; nothing except my lack of sanity. But surely my mental capacities weren't dying yet. I still had at least ten good years before I could begin my decline to senility...

I sank to the ground and watched absently as James muttered every spell in existence. Unsurprisingly, the door did not budge. My hand sank to my side. Something wet dripped onto my hand it, something gooey and not at all pleasant…my hand flashed to my foot. The gunk was still there! James had never cleaned it! He had immediately offered to, but then I discovered my wand was missing…

In any other world, I would have found it absurd that a bucket of goo found in a dusty closet could possibly have any magical properties. But this was Hogwarts, and I was locked in a closet with my very attractive ex-nemesis after declaring myself a pregnant trollop in front of the faculty and student body. At this rate, anything could happen.

An instant feeling of relief flooded me. If what I suspected what true, then I was not to blame for any of this! And then James would know that everything I said was influenced by whatever was on my leg! And then we could live happily ever after!

Wait.

I admitted I cared for him, strictly platonic-like. I did not want to waltz down the church aisle as Mrs. Lily Potter. After this closet incident, James and I would become friends. I would see him around after school was out, and maybe invite him to the pub for a drink. He would extend an invitation to his wedding, and I would accept it happily. When I was married and had children, maybe he would stop by and say hello, play with the kids and all. That's what friends did, right?

Oh, yes. That's just what we would be. Friends.

Now. I needed a plan of action. I hadn't had much luck with my strategies of late, but surely I would catch a break. Really, it was only fair. I stood up and readied myself. I'd have to use body language and obviously strange requests to get his attention. Figures I would be stuck with a man for charades…

_I don't wish to ever have any sort of sexual relations with your mother._

"If your mum was here, I'd shag her in a jiffy. Mm-mmm…tasty bit of meat, she is."

James froze and turned to stare at me in shock. I shook my head frantically and pointed wildly to my affected leg. Hopefully, he wouldn't think I was mad.

"Are you mental?" he asked incredulously. I remained optimistic; at least he was a bit skeptical.

_If Snape was tied to a chair, I would dearly love to wash his hair. With gloves, of course._

"But even better than your mother…if I had my hands on a pair of handcuffs and Severus 'Spicy' Snape, I think I might climax just looking at the greasy hunk."

James recoiled in disgust. Oh, Merlin, he actually thought I was being honest! I renewed my severe shaking of my head, adding a few grimaces every once in a while.

_Come on, James…figure it out! You're a bright boy. There's something drastically amiss with me! _

"I hope you never fully understand what is going on right now, as there is nothing wrong with me."

"Trust me, Evans. I really, really don't want to know either…" he muttered in revulsion.

_ARGH!_

A repulsive tinkling laugh forced its way from my lips; it foiled the air as it was expelled, its nauseating existence staining the very environment. It was probably creating some deadly toxin that would kill the both of us before anything was resolved.

James stopped his inane mutterings and peered at me. I could almost read his thoughts: _Evans laughed at something I said? She never laughs at me…she never laughs like _that_…_

Hopefully, that disgusting giggle and my waving arms would lead him to the right conclusion. I just had to wait…

"Hey, Evans…" I could see the wheels spinning as he struggled to grasp the unbelievable conclusion that my frantic pointing and strange comments suggested. "Back in fifth year, when I-uh…charmed Snape by the lake, were you at all angry at me?"

_What? You knew? _Before my mouth could translate my thoughts literally, I dropped the sarcastic tone and quickly thought, _I was absolutely furious at your arrogance and cruelty._

"Oh, sugarplum, I could never be mad at such a delicious specimen like you…besides, in fifth year, you wouldn't hurt a fly, you were so kind and humble."

James nearly beamed, and I suppressed a groan. He thought I meant that?! He was more of a moron than I thought.

But then, "Okay, Evans, you can stop waving at your leg. You're going to give yourself an aneurysm at that rate."

_Yes! Finally! Just a little closer…_

"Don't come near me, you filthy dog!"

I was nodding so hard my head began to ache, but I ignored it and just held out my infected leg.

_Say it! Say the cleaning charm!_

"Don't you dare let that foul mouth of yours even mention the cleaning charm, or by Thor's hammer, I swear I'll…"

James grinned back at me and raised his wand. I felt a quick spasm of anxiety, but then remembered. _James was a Marauder…_

"Wait."

At James' slightly frightening grin, I stopped smiling and motioned to my leg. What was he waiting for?

"I think I need to ask you a few questions before we proceed…"

What the devil?! That little worm! How dare he!

"Do you hate me?"

_Maybe...not really. No_.

"If I had a choice between spending time in the Giant Squid's acidic stomach and you, I'd be sitting there right now, having myself a cup of Earl Grey with cream."

"So that's a no, then." I resisted the urge to slap his smiling face and settled for a kick in the shins.

"Ow! Fine, I'll stop…doyoulikeme?"

Oh, the little bugger…

_I wish I didn't._

"Please. Don't sicken me. Do you like Snape?"

James' grin was lessened by his grimace as I kicked him again. This time, it was a bit harder.

"Are you romantically interested in me?"

_What a ridiculous question. I feel like I'm at a prepubescent sleepover party. What is this, Tournament for Most Asinine Queries? Please. Of course I don't have feelings for you._

"What a ridiculous question. I feel like I'm at a prepubescent sleepover party. What is this, Tournament for Most Asinine Queries? Please. Of course I don't have feelings for you."

I stopped pinching James' arm as my mouth gaped at my own words in shock. What?! But…the goo was still on me…

"Evans…you--you care for me?" James' shocked but radiant beam was more than I could handle.

_NO!_ I tried to scream.

"No!" I shouted. Oh dear.

Maybe this gel wasn't the problem. Maybe it had worn off. Or maybe…maybe, this horrible substance actually forced you to say the opposite of what you truly thought, not just what you thought you thought. You know, subconscious mind tricks and all…

So…did this mean that I did? That I cared for James Potter? James_ Potter_? I just started tolerating him! I couldn't possibly be keen on him…

I began kicking him with frenzy.

_Clean it up before I take the wand, break it half, and shove it up both your thin nostrils!_

"Don't touch this mess on me, or I'll have wild, unhindered sex with you and your lovely friends!"

So it hadn't worn off…

The grin disappeared in a mask of pain, and James quickly nodded. With a delicate flick of the wrist and a whispered "_Scourgio_!", I was free. Clean, free, and supposedly very infatuated with Potter.

Not.

"JAMES POTTER, YOU BLOODY SCALLYWAG! HOW DARE YOU QUESTION ME WHEN I HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO ANSWER--"

"Truthfully?" James put in for me.

"NO!" I shouted angrily. "You used me when I was helpless! You took advantage of me when I couldn't refuse! You stole my free will! You used it like it was a public urinal and flushed it away!"

With that, I slapped him. He hung his head, my handprint blazing red across his cheek. My hand stung from the impact.

"I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to behave like such a…" He raised his chin a bit, and I could see a smirk playing across his fine features. "Scallywag."

"James --no, you don't deserve that-- Potter, you are a horribly awful cretin. I can't believe that you would--"

"Love you?"

"No! And stop interrupting-- what?" I blinked. What had he said?

"Yeah, sometimes, I can't believe I had to fall in love with the one girl who hated me, then loved me, but now hates to admit it. Kind of drive a man bonkers, really."

"You lo--" My voice caught, and I choked. "You love me?"

He nodded seriously. "Yes. Yes, I do."

I began coughing violently. I wouldn't be surprised if a hairball came up. James grinned and I told my heart to stop beating so fast. Bad heart. Bad.

"Well. I don't like you. Not like that. The goo on my leg was very mistaken."

"Right. And you still want to shag my mum?"

I spluttered a bit while James stood grinning in a most ridiculous fashion. I swatted his arm in irritation. It was absurd. I merely found James an amiable and interesting individual. Never mind the fact that the said individual had increased my heart rate to a dangerous high and created a delightfully squeamish feeling in my stomach.

"You just…you just shut your mouth, James Potter! I have absolutely nothing but fond regards for you and your mother. Nothing more, and nothing less. And besides, you don't really…" I paused and cleared my throat. How could one say 'love' without actually saying it? I found this challenge almost beyond me. "You don't truly…urm, appreciate me as you say you do. After all, you've been quite a bother for six years."

"You mean, you thought I always teased you because I-- what? Didn't like you? Please, Lily, I thought you were brighter than that."

My breath caught in my throat. I harshly berated my heart and ordered it to stop jumping around like a buffoon. I managed to croak, "I wouldn't call mercilessly bugging a sign of affection, no."

I glanced down at my shoe (thankfully clean) and rubbed the floor. My, it was dusty in here…

"Well," I heard James start quietly, and I felt his strong hand lift up my reluctant chin to meet his bright hazel eyes, "what about this?"

I knew it was coming, but that didn't stop my traitorous heart from beating erratically, or my hands suddenly becoming sweaty. I stood frozen as James brought his face closer to mine, my eyes shutting automatically when his warm lips brushed mine.

I did the math quickly…Potter plus Evans plus snogging equals disastrous. Especially now that I was kissing him back.

_AH! Stop it, Lily! Just because you are in a dark closet with an attractive boy doesn't mean you can let your hormones get the best of you! Down with estrogen! This is_ _not good, most definitely not good…_

But it was. From the small amount of experience I managed to scrounge up, I was forced to admit that James Potter was an extraordinary kisser. Either that or the other boys were simply apes in disguise.

But with my luck, they probably were apes.

I told my hands not to play with his hair, but I could almost hear those black locks begging to be touched. I commanded my mouth not to open, but it's never been one to obey. I ordered my tongue not to respond to James', but when did any part of my body listen to the rather useless gray lump sitting in my cranium?

James stroked my jawbone gently as he pulled me closer to him. I'm sure his back was hurting, doing all that bending over, but he didn't seem to mind. I didn't either. I was swimming in joy, my arms wrapped around his beautiful head (there! I admitted it! And his glasses make him even more adorable!), enjoying the growing heat between us… his soft kisses became harder and more passionate. I am sure that at least a gallon of delicious saliva was passed between us.

Not that I'm complaining. I'm pro-spit.

Soon his hands were too busy otherwise to keep to my face…they were traveling up and down my torso, sending shivers down my spine. I think I may have started vocalizing my appreciation for his skill at this time, but I can't be sure. I was too busy discovering how much better it feels to have one's jaw line, ears, neck, collarbone…all being gently kissed, his glasses occasionally getting tangled in my hair. James' warm breath came out in quiet pants, matched by my own quickened breathing. It was unlike any broom closet experience I've ever had. I was in nirvana.

And it was like this that the Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, backed by a mob of curious students, discovered us. Later, after I crawled out from my dark, safe hole of a room to finally meet with the civilized world again, I learned that the lock had just been rusted and needed a few drops of good ol' Muggle oil. But in that moment, in the presence of the twinkling eyes of Professor Dumbledore and the fierce frown of Professor McGonagall, I was much too concerned with the issue of leaping out of James' arms as fast as I could while avoiding the many miscellaneous broom supplies. Not surprisingly, I was unsuccessful.

Of course, this time when I inevitably fell, James was there to catch me.

.o&o.

There. Now review, or my imp familiars might have to shave your head in the night. You think I'm kidding? Fine. Don't review. See how you look bald.


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